Neuroses of a Dog

My dog will be turning 10 later this summer. And you'd think that after a decade of existing on this planet, he would understand the basics of life. And it's not like we ask that much of him, really. We don't expect him to learn how to put on a suit and deliver a power point presentation. We don't expect him to understand the intricacies of the uncertainty principle. In fact, we don't even fully expect him to obey us when we tell him to sit or stay or lie down.

We do expect him to go outside to pee. And after 10 years of trying every house training method known to man, he still doesn't always get the hang of this. He seems to think that being alone in a room is the same as being outside. So ok, we compensate for this personality flaw by making sure that for the most part, he's never alone in a room.

We also expect him not to go crazy when he hears loud noises. Thunder. The FedEx truck. Birds in the chimney. That kind of thing. And he definitely doesn't get this. He's still convinced that regardless of how scary the Loud Things are, he is ten times scarier. So he does his best impression of Cujo every time we get a package delivered. But we can anticipate this behavior, and we can pet him and tell him that the world is not coming to a fiery end every time it rains. And it's annoying, but we can live with it.

But a couple of years ago, he convinced himself that he had fleas. In his defense, he did have fleas, but he was promptly treated and they haven't come back since. Except he doesn't believe us when we tell him that. So he spent a year and a half pulling out clumps of hair and looking very bedraggled and odd. After many, many months of us telling him to STOP IT, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, JUST STOP IT, he decided to listen. Instead, he now licks the carpet. Incessantly. Loudly. All day long. And what's worse, all NIGHT long.

Maybe if I convince him he has fleas again, he'll go back to pulling out his own hair and I can get some sleep.